Within Without You
by alittlemoremod
Summary: When Rita runs away to NYC to pursue her dreams, she meets a taxi driver who begins to show her the other side of life she's only dreamed of. Rita finds herself swept up in the conflicts of the 60s and can only make it with a little help from her friends.
1. Prologue: She's Leaving Home

Prologue

She's Leaving Home

Rita leaned up against the inside of the door, panting from her run home. The list had gone up at precisely 3 o'clock and, as she looked at the clock next to the coat rack, she had made it home in 17 minutes. Despite wanting to pass out from lack of oxygen, (running in Mary Janes was no easy task after all,) Rita was unable resist squealing from excitement. "Dad!" She called upstairs as she slipped off her shoes and stepped into the kitchen. Her mother turned around from the stove and raised an eyebrow. "Good Lord, Rita. What's the matter with you?"

Rita grinned. "Nothing! Actually, everything's completely perfect, Mum!" "Rita? How'd you get home so fast? You're usually not home for another fifteen minutes. Did school let out early?" Her dad entered and sat down at the table, looking at her quizzically. Noticing the sweat lining her forehead, he starting laughing. "Did you _run _home?" "Pretty much." She nodded and turned back to her mother, who turned off the oven and wiped her hands on the apron. "Okay, I know I didn't mention this to you before, but I couldn't get my hopes up."

"Spit it out already, Rita. The meatloaf is done." Her mother said. Rita fixed her wavy hair as best she could and motioned towards the opposite chair. "I know, Mum, but sit down! I want you to be sitting when I tell you." Her mother and father exchanged looks but she sat down, neatly crossing her legs. Rita paused then grinned. "I got it." "What?" Her dad asked. "The role. I got the lead. The list went up today and I got it. I mean, Susan Messenger _always _gets the lead but I beat her! You should have seen her face when the cast list went up! _Priceless_."

Her mother replied slowly and quietly. "What do you mean, Rita?" "I'm Juliet, Mum! Can you believe it? As in the other half of Romeo and Juliet!" She grinned but her face fell as she watched her parents look at each other. Her father's fists were clenched and her mother was biting her bottom lip. "What? I thought you'd be happy." Rita said in confusion. Her father looked out the window, "What about basketball?"

"Basketball!" Rita snorted. "Dad, you know I hate it." He stood up. "Why quit this year then?!" "Tom!" Her mother put her hand on his arm and eased him back into the chair. "Sweetie, you're a varsity player. You can't simply back out of a three year commitment." Rita crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter. "Basketball? You're not happy I got the lead in a production cause' of _basketball_?!" Her father snorted. "It's not a 'production,' Rita. It's a school play."

Rita felt her throat tighten as he continued. "You're an athlete. Basketball is part of your future! We've been talking about this for years! I thought you and Megan Sweeney had dreamed about senior basketball for years?" Rita laughed bitterly. "Megan Sweeney? I haven't talked to her in two years. Way to be involved in my life." Her father rubbed his forehead. "That is besides the point, Rita. We've been planning for you to play college ball for years! Why would you have us waste out money!?" He struggled to remain composed. "What's this 'we' thing, Dad? Last time I checked you're the one obsessed with this basketball shit." Rita snorted.

Her mother gasped. "I will not tolerate that sort of language in my house, is that clear!" Her father roared and Rita stared back in fury. "It's time you grew up, Rita. Yeah, it was cute at first, the acting. I mean, we all thought it was great you were taking up a new hobby. But, the hobby became something like an obsession. "Dad, I'm not," She interrupted but he continued.

"You need to realize what is going to get you ahead in life!" "Yeah, and I know it's not basketball!" Rita's lip trembled and she prepared to shout again, but took a moment to compose herself. After a brief second she look themed both straight in the eye and said quietly. "Dad, Mum, I hate it. I've always hated basketball. Can't you see this is what I want?" Against her will, she felt a tear slide down her cheek. Rita felt as though her heart was actually breaking; she had been so proud of her accomplishment and how stupid she was to think that her parents would understand.

Her father looked away once more. "Rita," "No, Dad," She bit her lip and continued on in a stronger voice. "I want this more than anything. And I'm good, too! If I wasn't, why would I get the lead in one of Shakespeare's greatest plays? I can sing, too. You just haven't heard me." "Rita!" Her father cut in. "You need to face the facts. You are not…made for the screen." "What does that mean? Dad, I know I can make it big, I know I can. I'm not going to end up a starving," "You're not Audrey Hepburn!" He roared and turned to face her.

"What?" Rita whispered. "You're not…like that. You're not Elizabeth Taylor or Marilyn Monroe." The tears slid freely down her face as his true meaning hit her like a brick. "Rita, I'm only telling you this because I don't want you to get hurt. But, if this is what it takes for you to wake up out of you little fantasy, I'll gladly do it." He looked away from her. "You're not beautiful, sweetie." Rita clutched the end of the sink in a death grip as she began to tremble. "That's not to say we don't love you!" Her mother quickly added. "It's just that…we don't want to see you hurt." Her mother touched her shoulder gently but Rita recoiled. "Don't touch me." She shook her head and walked out of the kitchen.

"Rita!" Her mother called but she paid no attention as she walked up the stairs, never looking back. "Sweetie, come back!" Her mother called again, but she closed the door of her room behind her and locked it. As the sounds of her mother and father arguing traveled up from the kitchen, Rita sat down on her bed and very quietly began to cry.

- - - - - - -

Rita held her suitcase in one hand and used to the other to open the door of her room as silently as possible. She bit her lip as she eased herself out of the doorway and put her hand on the doorknob to close it, but stopped for a moment. She asked herself if what she was doing was really worth it as she looked at her safe, secure room. Was it worth leaving this? After a few long seconds, Rita shut the door behind her and tiptoed down the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs she glanced up at the clock above the coat rack. By the light of the rising sun, she saw that it read 5 o'clock. Rita ran a hand through her hair and walked into the kitchen. She sat down at the kitchen table and looked around. The coffee pot that her dad had used for as long as should could remember was sitting next to the sink, her mother's favorite apron was hung up next to the stove. She would leave all this, she knew. All of the comfort that she had grown up with for 18 years; everything she had relied on would be taken away. But, it was going to be worth it. Her parents would never, _could _never really understand who she was. After all, who wants an ugly daughter?

As the tears began flowing down her face, Rita pulled the folded note out of the pocket of her jeans and spread it out before her carefully. As she looked over it, she released how short it really was. She looked up at the clock above the refrigerator and swore. Her father would be stepping into the shower soon and everything would fail if she was caught; there was no time to fix the letter. Rita rubbed her face and laid the note on the kitchen table were it was sure to be found.

She walked over to the pantry and opened the lowest drawer, sticking her hand as far back as she could. A couple of years ago, she had discovered her parent's emergency fund while searching for cookies and had made a mental note of it. Rita took $500 and carefully put it on her purse, along with the other $200 she had been saving for years. She didn't want to take all her parents money; she didn't want to rely on them even as she escaped them, she told herself as she put the envelope back in the pantry.

The clock now read 5:10. Rita grabbed her suitcase and shoved the purse inside of it. She made sure the note was in plain site and quickly put on her shoes, carefully listening for any signs of her parents waking early. Last night, her mother had begged her to listen and come out of her room, but Rita has simply turned the radio up louder. She smiled darkly as she remembered; you can't simply fix something as terrible as what they had said with a few hugs and a chat.

She then put on her favorite blue coat with the high collar and stopped after one arm was through. Her mother had gotten that after she had missed the opening night of her first play, Rita remembered. Her mother and father had promised to come, but had accepted a last minute dinner party invitation and had forgotten to pass along the news. The whole second act she had scanned the audience for them and after the play had had to walk home alone in the dark. And to make up for it, her mom gave her a coat. As she put on the rest of the coat, Rita realized that was how the majority of her life had been. Her parents had made up for missing the most important events of her life by showering her with gifts. She clutched the handle of the doorknob and was unable to believe that all these years she had mistaken it for love.

Rita stepped out into the morning and closed her eyes as she shut the door behind her. The sky glistened with shades of pink, gold and orange, clashing against the dark blues and violets that still hung with the moon. A gentle breeze stirred her hair and she smiled. Rita had always loved the morning, something about the silence and the sunrise stirred something inside of her. Eyes still closed and in bliss, she took the first step off of her front porch, feeling alive with the freedom she had previously been denied. Her parents never allowed her to step outside before 6:30; they had said only "strange types" were out and about at that hour. She had argued that things were different in Iowa then in Liverpool, but they had refused. So for as long as she could remember, she had watched the sunrise from her window, trapped behind the glass.

Rita took another step and clutched the suitcase even tighter. Then, caught up in the flood of emotions rushing through her, Rita burst into a sprint. The wind caused her hair to flow around her head and she breathed in the early morning air. She ran until she was out of breath and leaned against a stop sign, laughing. She looked back over her shoulder at her house, now barely visible. Rita wondered when, or if she would ever see it again. But, she had made up her mind the day before. It had to be done. With that thought, Rita Starkey turned around and began walking towards the train station.

- - - - -

Forty-five minutes later a call was made to the police from the home of 3438 Penny Lane. The local law enforcement arrived to find the girl's mother in hysterics on the kitchen floor, clutching a piece of paper in her hand. The father looked out the window, saying beneath his breath that they had given her all of their lives. However, by the time the train station was contacted, the girl was gone.


	2. One: Do You Want to Know a Secret?

Chapter One

Good Morning, Good Morning

Maxwell Carrigan grinned as he stepped out of the café and sipped his coffee. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining from a cloudless sky and the breeze gently stirred his hair that stuck out from underneath his bandana. He sighed with utter happiness and began the walk back to his taxi. Today was payday and that meant tonight was for celebration. As he strode through the nearly empty streets of early morning Greenwich Village, he planned out his night. Lucy had come in late last night and it would be a good idea to get her properly acquainted with everyone else in the apartment building. Nah, tonight was his night. Jude could do something with her; he had liked her at Thanksgiving, anyway. Max decided he probably smoke a little something and then head over to Sadie's club and possibly considering taking home a girl, if there were any that caught his interest. He grinned once more at that thought and said brightly as someone passed him, "Good morning!" The man shot him a funny look and walked a little faster. Max laughed and feeling infectiously happy, began to sing to himself as he passed through the soon to be busy streets.

Noticing all the unhappy expressions on those he passed, undoubtedly not looking forward to work, he smirked. "_Going to work, don't want to go, feeling low down." _People looked uncomfortable and did their best to give him as much space as possibly, only making Max happier than he was not in their shoes. "_Heading for home, you start to roam, now you're in town_." He held his coffee cup in one hand as he balanced on the edge of the sidewalk and did a little dance, crossing his feet over one another and throwing up one hand. "_Everybody knows there's nothing doing, everything is closed it's like a ruin._" Max jumped off the curb and sauntered through the street. "_Everyone you see is half asleep and you're on your own, you're in the streets._"

"_After a while, you start to smile now you feel cool." _Across the streets he saw a group of people about his age walking briskly with books under their arms, no doubt college students. He glanced at them and smirked, "_Then you decide to take a walk by the old school._" Seeing the anxiety in their eyes and their nervous expressions as they broke into a jog, Max snorted. "_Nothing has changed it's still the same._" He turned back to the street and sang out, "_I've got nothing to say and it's okay!" _Still happy as ever, he turned to the people passing him and grinned, "_Good morning!" _He nodded at another. "_Good morning!" _He laughed and took a long sip of his coffee.

He turned the corner onto the street where he had parked the taxi so he could go grab a cup of coffee before work began. Max stopped suddenly and blinked; positive he was not seeing clearly. "Hey! Just what do you think your doing?" He called out angrily as the maid leaned over the hood of his taxi with a small piece of paper in her hand. He jogged over and the maid looked up in surprise.

Max snatched the ticket of the window angrily and repeated himself. "Just what exactly do you think you're doing?" The maid crossed her arms and replied smartly, "Giving you a ticket." Max quickly glanced her over and placed her to be about in her mid-20s, but it was hard to tell with her hair tucked underneath her hat. Also, her large bag gave her the rather funny appearance of a soldier, he noticed. Max stared at the ticket. "25 bucks! Are you kidding me?" "Fraid' not." She said rather quickly and began to walk away. "Pay that by the end of the month or your car will be taken into custody."

Max was furious. "Whoa, hold on a minute!" He ran up next to her and she rolled her eyes, "How did I get _two _violations?" The maid turned around and crossed her arms. "First of all, you didn't _actually_ put any money into the meter. _And_, you're not even supposed to be parking here. Cleared up now?" Max was surprised at the sarcastic tone of the maid; clearly she was not in the mood to argue. However, he was not in the mood to accept tickets.

"Really, where does it say that?" He snapped and she pointed at a large sign directly next to the cab, which read, _No parking between the hours of 4 – 8 a.m. _His jaw dropped and the maid forced a smile. "So glad to have been able to help. Now, if you'll excuse me." Max stepped in front of her and laughed angrily. "No way! I'm not accepting this! I'm a law abiding, tax-paying citizen and I refuse." The maid bit her lip and sighed with frustration. "I'm so terribly sorry that you were unaware of the recent parking changes, _sir_, but nonetheless the law says that you have to pay the tickets by the end of the month."

Max snorted and began to yell. "Ha! No chance in hell I'm paying for that bullshit 'law'," He glanced at the nametag on her jacket, "_Rita_." He said sarcastically. Up until this point, the maid had been annoyed, but polite nonetheless. Now, as Max ripped up the tickets and threw them into the air, her bottom lip twitched and she gazed back with a fury that surprised him. She laughed out of disbelief and pointed at herself, "Do you _honestly_ think I _enjoy _this?" He snapped back, "Well, it certainly seems as though you do." "Ha!" She threw back her head then looked him straight in the eyes. "I most certainly do not! I am _so_ fantastically tired of having to deal with stupid, angry, easily confused people like _you_." The maid snarled and Max detected a hint of an accent in her voice, but was not able to place it as the moment quickly passed. Actually, for a second she had sounded quite a lot like Jude.

The maid glanced at her watch, "Great! Now I've missed my only break for the rest of the entire day because _someone _held me up!" The maid threw up her arms and Max glared. She reached into her bag and pulled out two more tickets and scribbled on them. Before he could even move, she shoved them against his chest and walked away as he scrambled to grab a hold of them as they fell. "Fine, go ahead and don't pay them. I'll make sure to laugh when I see your ugly cab locked up." He opened his mouth to call out something as she walked away, but was too angry to form any words. By now, more people had begun to head off to work and the maid quickly disappeared into the steadily growing crowd. Max snarled and shoved the tickets into his pocket and got into the taxi. He snarled HH

- - - - - -

"Max! It's about time you got home! Jude and I have been waiting for ages!" Lucy called out to Max as he stepped into the apartment and shut the door behind him. He flipped the hair out of his eyes and stepped into the main room of the apartment. As usual, it was filled with people chatting and laughing, most of whom he didn't know that well. Sadie's apartment was always full of artists and musicians and hippies and then some who simply didn't know what category they fit in. But Max was perfectly happy with the ways things worked; it was such a change from the rigor and pretentiousness of Princeton. Here, everyone was radically different and completely fine. Max loved it.

"Sorry, Luc." He worked his way through a small clump of people over to Lucy and Jude who were sitting down next to each other on a couch. Jude smiled shyly as he always did and laughed, "Where've you been? I thought you wanted to go out and show your dear little sister here the big City." Lucy playfully shoved him as he teased and Max rolled his eyes. "Yeah, traffic was pretty bad. Oh, and I got fined twenty five dollars for because of some bullshit parking law." "That'll teach you to pay attention." Lucy smirked and Max made a face at her. "Thanks, _Mom_."

Lucy laughed and said excitedly, "Well, it's alright that you were late because I have a fantastic plan for tonight!" Max groaned and slumped down next to Jude on the coach. He had been a foul mood as the day progressed and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. The stupid meter maid had ruined his whole day.

He looked over at Lucy, "Aw, tonight? I'm pretty tired, Luc. Are you sure just down want to hang out?" "Oh, stop being such a schlub, Max. Sadie and I were talking about theatre and how great some of these new off-Broadway shows are, and I saw an ad for a show that just opened last week!" Max rolled his eyes. "No way. You know how much I hate the 'theatre'," He added in mockingly extravagant voice then continued. "Actors are people who aren't actually comfortable with themselves, so they jump at the chance to throw on a costume and pretend to be someone else for two hours."

Lirael looked disgusted. "Seriously, Max? Actors are the complete opposite. They have to be comfortable enough with themselves to take on the psychological and physical troubles of another character. Which is a lot more than 'throwing on a costume! Besides, you want to go, don't you Jude?" Max looked over at Jude, who shifted uncomfortably. "Come on, man!" Max pleaded and Lucy smiled sweetly at Jude. Jude mumbled something and blushed and Lucy beamed. "Well then, that's two to one so I suggest _you _go get dressed, Max." Max looked at Jude with disgust, who awkwardly looked at the ground. He groaned and lifted himself off the couch. "If I'm going to be stuck watching something for three hours I at least want to know what it's called." He said over his shoulder to Lucy, who called back. "_Something Wicked._"

- - - - -

Max crossed his legs and leaned back as he reclined in his seat. Jude sat down next to him and Lucy followed. He glanced down at the theatre, the balcony tickets had been pretty cheap and the theatre itself was sort of cool, he supposed. It was extremely old, like most of the buildings in New York, and had a surprising contrast to it. While the auditorium has a regal look to it; everything etched with gold and crimson, the small lobby had been a swirl of modern artwork that he supposed reflected the show. Clashes of what he could only guess were good and evil fought with each other across the walls in swirls of blue and black.

"What exactly is this play about again?" He leaned across Jude to Lucy, who was closely examining the little booklet they had been given. She looked up at him, "Isn't it obvious? The title's from one of the most famous lines of the play." Max stared at her blankly and Lucy rolled her eyes. "_By the prickling of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes_." She recited and Jude nodded slowly. Max elbowed him in the ribs, "Oh stop pretending like you actually know what she's talking about!" "It's the Scottish play, Max!" Lucy said exasperatedly. He groaned and fell back into his chair. "Will someone just tell me the name of the god damn play already!"

"You're not supposed to say the name of the play in a theatre. You only say 'the Scottish play." Jude said and took the booklet from Lucy and pointed at the cast of characters. Max read down the list silently. "Oh! It's _Macbeth_!" Lucy and Jude both sighed with annoyance as Max said precisely what he was not supposed to. "They've made it into a musical and have updated the language, for people like you who have trouble understanding words with more than five syllables, Max." Lucy teased and Max shifted in his seat. Not only did he have to sit still for three hours, he had to sit still in the uncomfortable clothes Lucy had insisted he wear. It wasn't even a suit, but it was far fancier than anything Max had worn in months and he couldn't remember the last time he had spent so much time trying to clean up his shaggy hair.

Just then, the lights began to dim and he glanced over as Lucy settled herself in the seat, looking terribly excited. He sighed and adjusted himself against the back of the chair so as to make himself as comfortable as possible. Max then tugged on Jude's sleeve and whispered in his ear. "I'm taking a nap. If you watch the first half, I'll take the second." He grinned mischievously. "That way, we can tell each other what happened so Lucy thinks we actually watched it." Jude nodded. "Sure, go ahead and sleep but you don't need to worry about watching the second half for me. I'm actually excited about the show." Max opened his mouth to say something in reply, but simply sighed and leaned back in his chair. Jude had become such a pansy lately, especially around Lucy. Max wondered if there was something going on between them, but then decided he didn't really care and closed his eyes.

Max soon fell in a sort of half sleep, the kind where you hear everything going on around you, but choose not to pay attention to it. He drifted into his dreams and lost track of time as he slowly breathed in and out. Suddenly, a voice pierced his dreams and he instantly was snapped back into reality. "_You'll never know how much I really love you. You'll never know how much I really care." _Max blinked and sat up in his seat, stunned by the voice. "_Listen, do you want to know a secret?_" The woman's voice was beautiful, right on the edge between being sensual and seductive. It had a certain edge to it that kept it from sounding too ethereal because of its perfection. Something about it transfixed him.

He stared down at the stage and watched a young woman sang into the ear of a man a good bit older than herself. The woman wore a medieval dress of dark crimson that contrasted her long, midnight hair that hung underneath a thin circlet around her brow. It hugged her slender body and the slightest bit of her shoulders was exposed as she leaned closer to him. The woman, whom he could only guess was Lady Macbeth, slowly pulled her hand over Macbeth's. "_Closer, let me whisper in your ear._" She sang in a slow, thick voice that pierced that theatre.

Macbeth closed his eyes and sighed as she breathed seductively into his ear. "_Say the words you long to hear_." Lady Macbeth smiled cruelly at his reaction and sang, her lips barely touching Macbeth's ear. "_I'm in love with you." _Max felt the muscles in his stomach deliciously tighten as he watched. Something about that woman was so utterly seductive that Max felt his heartbeat quicken and wondered if every man in the audience felt the same way. Judging by the look on Macbeth's face, he certainly did.

She twirled a tendril of raven hair around her finger as Macbeth's eyelids slowly opened and he turned to her. "Love, you know what you must do!" Her eyes were wide as she looked at him and continued. "You have been chosen! Some power has destined you to be the King of all Scotland! Will you not stand up as a man and take what is destined to be yours?" Macbeth opened his mouth to plead but Lady Macbeth slowly put a finger to his lips and opened her lips a little wider as she leaned towards him. "If you will not do it for yourself, will you not for I?"

Max felt his throat tighten as he watched Lady Macbeth seduce her husband to her will. A corner of his mind imagined what it would be like to trade places with Macbeth, just for a few moments. "_Listen, do you want to know a secret_?" She sang again and gazed at him with her dark eyes. "_Do you promise not to tell?_" Macbeth closed his eyes once more and she slowly pulled his face towards hers and glanced out at the audience for a moment.

Max suddenly found their eyes meeting and blinked to make sure he was not imagining it. A brief look of puzzlement came into her eyes as she spotted him and she blinked as well, her eyebrow rising ever so slightly. However the moment quickly passed and she continued to sing to Macbeth. "_I'm in love with you._" Max then realized that he recognized her, somehow. As the scene ended and Lady Macbeth exited, he leaned over to Jude and whispered. "I know her!" Jude looked confused and whispered back, "Really? I can't say I've ever seen her before. She's got a great accent, though. She really sounds Scottish." Max sat back in his seat and scanned his mind as the rest of the act played out.

Just before intermission, he realized how he knew her. What was her name? Something that started with an R. Rhonda? Reese? No. Rhoda? He sighed with frustration and concentrated. A second later, he got it. _Rita. _Yes, that's what it was! Lady Macbeth was the meter maid who had given him the tickets earlier that day!

The curtain went down and the lights came up as the second act ended. He leaned over suddenly to Lucy, "Hey, can I see that paper with the cast list?" "Sure! I'm glad to know you're so interested in the show!" She beamed as she handed it over. Max flipped till he found that right page and looked at the name next to Lady Macbeth. "Eleanor Rigby." He whispered to himself and was confused. Rita was most definitely not a nickname that came from Eleanor. Max flipped a few more pages to the Cast Bio and was discouraged to see hardly any information under Eleanor Rigby. While everyone else in the cast had thanks to family and friends and long paragraphs about their accomplishments, Eleanor Rigby's said, "_This is Ms. Rigby's first major production. She recently celebrated her 21__st__ birthday and loves living in the Big Apple. Much love to the cast and crew!_" Nothing more.

Max was puzzled. He was _positive _that Lady Macbeth was the meter maid. There was no question. It was most definitely her. As lights dimmed and the second half of the play began, he made a mental note to find her after the show ended. If he didn't, he would be plagued by the curiosity forever.

Max made very close attention to the rest of _Something Wicked_, waiting for Lady Macbeth to enter. As it continued, he found himself drawn up in the story and was actually breathless as some of the scenes played out, despite that he even knew how it ended. Max found the updated language kept the same spirit of all the Shakespeare he had studied throughout the years, but was simply easier to understand straightaway. Also, the songs did not seem to hinder the show, as he had first thought, instead they were simply a way of adding a melody to the very thoughts of the characters; none were cheesy or over done. The acting itself was quite excellent. All of the actors were wholly focused on conveying their characters to the audience.

However, it was undeniable that Lady Macbeth stole the show. As Max recalled his seventh grade English class, he remembered how he had simply blamed everything on Macbeth's greed and pride. This version however had his wife as the one behind the grand scheme, but she chose to let her husband go on thinking everything had been his idea. Lady Macbeth became the cunning one, watching from the shadows to make sure her husband did what she asked of him and would toy with him in order to get her way. She was cruelly efficient as she held the daggers to her husband and was unmoved by the crimson that dripped from them, evidence of their treacherous deed.

He watched as Macbeth was overcome by guilt and she was forced to take control in order to hide their terrible crimes, rising to keep that which they had murdered in order to obtain. He also felt genuine horror as Lady Macbeth slowly succumbed to her insanity, plagued by dreams of Duncan's unwashable blood. Max felt his stomach turn a little as she sobbed and scrubbed her hands, moaning about the stain that could not be removed. Then, as an anguishing scream came from off stage, he saw the hair on the back of Jude's neck stand up, as well as his own. Her limp body was then carried on stage, her hands stained with her own blood instead of Duncan's. Her raven hair streamed over her pale shoulders and framed her face as she was laid down, wet blood covering the front of her dress. Max found that he was both relived and saddened by her death, much to his surprise. Despite being wicked, something about Eleanor Rigby's Lady Macbeth had been captivating; a character both untamable and unpredictable. Eleanor Rigby, Rita, whatever the name of the meter maid, had created a dark heroine that was impossible to forget.


	3. Two: Act Naturally

Chapter Two

Act Naturally

As the audience slowly made their way out of the auditorium and exited, Max said quickly to Jude and Lucy. "You guys head back to the apartment. I have something I need to take care of." Lucy looked concerned. "You sure, Max?" "Yeah, do you need…anything?" Jude added. He smiled and shook his head. "No, it's no biggie. I'll be home in like half an hour." Lucy nodded slowly and he ducked back into the crowd and made his way down to the front of the theatre. He walked over to a man who was cleaning under the seats and asked, "Um, do you know how I could meet the actors? I know one of them." He lied and the man looked up. "Yeah, just wait around for a few more minutes and they always exit out into the lobby. There's not much room backstage, you know." Max thanked him and walked quickly out into the lobby.

While he waited, Max tried to think of something to say that would sound cool, instead of rather creepy. Which, he knew, could be a definite possibility. He raked his hand through his hair and mumbled under his breath to himself, practicing what he would say. Sure enough, a few minutes later a group of people came in from a door labeled CAST & CREW ONLY. The group was mostly made of men and Max noticed Macbeth and Duncan laughing as they spoke to each other. However, behind them Max was able to make out a woman and called out hopefully, "Rita!" The girl stopped and looked over her shoulder, then her head snapped back as she pretended that she had not heard him. "Ri…!" Max started to call again, but she turned and vehemently shook her head. She waved goodbye to the other actors and walked briskly over to Max.

"Excuse me, do I know you?" She looked at him quizzically without a trace of the perfect Scottish accent she had adapted for the show. Max realized that she must have been wearing a wig because her head was now a golden brown that was cut just below her shoulders with slight curls at the end. The girl, whatever her name was, wore a black peacoat that stopped just before the bottom of her skirt and black Mary Janes with socks that skimmed her knees. She looked rather innocent; nothing like the seductive Lady Macbeth Max had seen just a short while earlier. Clearly, she was a fantastic actress in order to change herself so drastically, Max thought.

"Wait, hold on." She interrupted as Max opened his mouth to reply. She bit on the corner of her lip as she studied him, and then smiled as it came to her. "You're the nasty man that gave me so much trouble earlier this morning about those tickets, aren't you?" He attempted a smile, "Possibly?" She laughed a little and brushed her hair back behind her shoulders. "You look different without the bandanna." There was an awkward silence. "So, um, did you like the show?" "Oh, yeah, it was, I mean, you were fantastic." Max stuttered and mentally smacked himself for looking so dumb.

The girl nodded and Max realized just how wrong he had been about her age earlier. This morning, he had placed her at mid-twenties but up close she looked as though 21 was an exaggeration. There was yet another uncomfortable silence and she looked down and twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. Max spoke up. "Um, well, I just wanted to say how sorry I was about this morning. I was in a really bad mood and you just happened to be right there. Yeah, I mean I saw you on stage and I thought 'Hey, isn't that the angry meter maid I met this morning?'" She shook her head and replied smartly, "How funny! I looked out into the audience and thought, 'Why, isn't that the bitchy taxi driver who was so rude this morning?'" Max instantly liked her.

Suddenly, her stomach grumbled extremely loudly and she blushed. "Oh! I'm sorry!" She laughed nervously. "I haven't really had time to eat today. Normally I grab something in the morning for later but I was…interrupted." She trailed off and Max realized it was his fault. He remembered she had said that she had missed her break earlier that day because of him. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "Listen, I am _so _sorry." "No, really, it's alright!"

"Here, how about I go get you something to eat to make up for my bitchiness this morning? I'm Max." He stuck out a hand and she raised an eyebrow at him and smirked. "And how do I know that if I leave with you they won't find me in a swamp in Louisiana four years from now?" Max smirked back and thought her to be fascinating. Not in a sexy way, like her character, but there was something about her that captured his attention. "I suppose that's a chance you'll have to risk." She looked up at the ceiling and thought for a brief moment then shook Max's hand, her eyes twinkling. "Call me Rita."

They walked out of the building and Max made sure that he walked closest to the street. "So, if you don't mind me asking, what's with the two name thing? You looked kinda pissed when I called you Rita back there. Are you running from the cops or something?" She threw back her head and laughed, a beautiful sound that made Max shiver. "No, no, not at all! Eleanor Rigby is my stage name! Sounds a hell of a lot better than," Max looked over to see her grimace as they continued to walk. "_Rita Starkey_. Eugh, what a hideous name. Honestly, what decent parents look down a child and feel as though they need to punish her with a name like _that_." Max laughed and they stepped into a small café.

They sat down at a small table in the back and Rita took off her coat and laid it next to her. Max and Rita sat across from each other and Rita played with a small bracelet around her wrist. Max leaned back and repeated to himself, "Rita Starkey. _Rita_ Starkey. I think that's a nice name. Can't see why you don't like it." She smiled shyly and looked down at the table. "So, how'd you get into acting? Has your dream always been to play a psychotic, blood thirsty queen?" Just then, the waiter walked up to them and Max ordered a cup of coffee and nodded at Rita. She smiled shyly and quietly asked for French fries and a glass of water. The waiter walked away with their order and Rita answered his question.

"I've always loved acting, I suppose. Honestly, being on stage is when I feel safest, despite the fact that I make an idiot out of myself. Something about acting makes me feel _alive_. Something about being a different person with different a life in a different time and place makes you appreciate the life you've got more, I suppose." As she talked, her eyes had lit up with passion as she spoke, but the moment quickly passed. Rita blushed a little as she realized how zealously she had spoken about acting and wondered if the guy sitting across from her was uncomfortable, so she quickly changed the subject. "What about yourself, Max…?" She trailed off and he filled in the sentence. "Carrigan."

"Here you go." The waiter handed them a glass of coffee and water, then set down a small plate of fries in front of Rita. She thanked him and took a sip of water through a straw and put her chin in her hand. "So, Max Carrigan, have _you _always aspired to be an angry taxi driver?" She teased. "Honestly…no." He replied and she laughed warmly, her eyes smiling. "I only moved to New York a couple of months ago. Before I came here, I was at Princeton." Rita blinked. "As in the university?" He nodded and she nearly choked on her water. "Then what the hell are you doing in this cesspit?"

Max grinned. "To be honest, I don't really think I'm cut out for Ivy League. Academia's not really my thing. As you can probably guess, my parents were _thrilled _when I dropped out." Rita's face grew somber. "I understand. My parents were…unsupportive when I told them what I wanted to do." Max was surprised. "Seriously? How could anyone see you and not think acting was what you were born to do. In case you haven't noticed, you're brilliant."

Rita smiled sadly and said quietly, "Thanks. You've no idea how much that means." She played with a French fry on the corner of her plate as they descended into silence. Max wondered why exactly she had suddenly become so untalkative. He was about to ask, but she spoke. "My parents wanted me to play basketball more than anything. They made me go to all these stupid camps and clinics and they convinced me into liking it." She chuckled bitterly. "They cared more about my future sports career than then actually did about me." Rita ran a hand through her hair and said angrily, "I mean, why is it that people care so much about what I do? Do, do, do, that's all anyone ever cares about! Why can't it just be who I _am_?"

Rita was once more embarrassed by her outburst and blushed, but to her surprise Max didn't say anything. She looked up and his gaze met hers. She looked into his piercing green eyes and he quietly replied. "I know." "Do you really?" She whispered and he nodded. "Yes."

Max watched as Rita ran a hand through her wavy hair and sighed. "I'm not actually twenty-one. I only turned eighteen last month, but I had to pretend to be older so I could get a job." Max was floored as she spoke quickly, shaking her head as if she was disappointed in herself. "I ran away from home four months ago. If I'd stayed, I'd be going to prom in a week." Her fingers trembled as everything came pouring out of her and Max was unsure of quite what to say. "Have you talked to them at all?" He asked quietly. She snorted. "Course' not. I can't, not after what they said." She trailed off. "What was that?"

She smiled a little and looked down at her plate as she spoke. "They said I wasn't cut out for the theatre. They said," She stopped and bit her lip, then continued. "They said that I didn't quite have the 'presence' that was required in order to act." She continued to tremble and Max saw tears well up in her wide eyes. "My dad told me I wasn't pretty enough. He said I wasn't like Audrey Hepburn or Elizabeth Taylor and that he didn't want me to be hurt. Great thing for hear from your own father, let me tell you." Her voice cracked and she forced a smile to cover up her real pain.

Max felt anger rising inside of him as Rita finally released the things that had haunted her for so long. She was so full of life and joy; to crush all that was surely a crime. Besides, Max found her to be quite lovely. Not in the seductive way that she had presented as Lady Macbeth, but something about her simply shined. She radiated an air of childlike joy and hope that was so startlingly different from the all the crushed dreams that seemed to fill New York. While everyone in Greenwich Village put on an air of wonder and freedom, Rita seemed to be the only who really possessed it.

As Rita smiled sadly and looked at him with her warm amber eyes, Max found he was literally trembling from the desire to pull her face to his and kiss her full, coral lips. Luckily, Rita did not notice and laughed shyly. "I'm so sorry. I don't even know you and I'm pouring out my soul. I must be boring you to death." Max vehemently shook his head. "Not at all." She withdrew her hand and glanced at the clock hanging up on the wall. "Shit! It's _really _late." Max looked over and realized that they had been talking for far longer than either of them had realized. Rita called for the waiter and smiled at Max. "Listen, thank you so much for this. It means a lot more than you know to simply be able to talk to someone." The waiter came with their check and Rita pulled out a bill and told him to keep the change. Max opened his mouth to protest but she interrupted. "No, I insist. Think of it as your psychologist's fee."

"Well, is there anything else I can do for you?" He asked and Rita was about to reply, then stopped herself. She thought for a moment then asked, "Do you think you could walk me home? My apartment's only a few blocks away and I don't want to be mugged. If it's a problem please don't," "Sure." Max agreed before she could even finish speaking. She grinned and they walked out of the café.

He asked her a few questions about nothing too serious and he learned that she had run away from a small town in Iowa and that her first role was Wendy in Peter Pan. He then answered her questions and told her that he was really liked golfing and he was awful at bowling, to which she admitted she was as well.. As they talked, the back part of Max's mind that all men possess was wondering as to just what exactly, 'Walk back to my apartment' meant. Did that mean she was inviting him _over_? Like, to sleep with her? Max grinned as he thought of that prospect and mentally decided that if she were to ask, he would most _definitely _agree.

They stopped a few minutes later outside of a rather beaten down apartment building. Rita turned to him and said, "Thank you so much." Max glanced through the doors into the dark lobby and asked quickly, "Do you want me to walk you to your actual apartment. I mean, it's really late." Was she waiting for him to make a move? Or should he play along until she said something?

To his surprise, Rita laughed. "Oh, it's no problem. I only live on the third floor. And besides, if my boyfriend saw you walk me in, he might get the wrong idea." Max blinked. "Your boyfriend?" She nodded innocently. "Yeah, he works late so he should still be up." Max didn't quite know what to say. While it was certainly understandable for her not to invite him over, he still had figured that there had been _something_ between them. However, Rita clearly had thought differently. "Well, I need to get some sleep. My voice is going to sound like shit tomorrow." She smiled and there was an awkward pause, then suddenly she hugged him. Max took a step back out of surprise, but returned her hug. It was not a sexual type of a hug, but one of gratitude, which Max did not realize. It was simply Rita's way of thanking him for allowing her to be truly be herself for the first time in months. His simple act of kindness had been the first since she had moved to this crazy city.

Then, Rita darted back off into the dark apartment building and Max stood there, stunned. He made his way back the apartment and as he got undressed and lay in bed, he found himself unable to get Rita off of his mind. "A _boyfriend_?" He whispered to himself and rolled onto his side. As he slowly sank into much needed sleep, Max decided that one way or another he would find a way to see lovely Rita again.


	4. Three: Mean Mr Mustard

Chapter Three

Mean Mr. Mustard

Rita slowly slid the thick bristles of the brush underneath her cheekbones as she sucked in her face. Once she was done, she dipped the brush back into the compact and pulled in her cheeks once more and made her right cheekbone more prominent. She put away the dark red powder and pulled out a similar compact, only this one contained an almost translucent powder. Rita hummed one of her songs from the second act absently and slid the brush over the top of her cheekbones. Once she was done, she tilted her head and examined herself. She had imagined Lady Macbeth as a sort of colder beauty, something untouchable and foreign. She supposed she had a natural sort of cuteness that that bothered her. No, Lady Macbeth had to look completely different. She sighed, satisfied with her cheekbones and reached for the eyeliner when the makeup room door slammed open.

Rita whirled around and smiled when she saw it was only the stage manager. "Everything all right, Billy?" Normally she would have been embarrassed to be seen only in her dressing robe by a man, but Billy Shears was a different matter entirely. She couldn't be completely sure, but she figured him to be about 60 years old. He had small glasses that covered his chunky nose and wispy grey hair that reminded her of goose feather. Besides, although he had never said a word, everyone knew he was gay. Billy was simply one of thousands who fled to Greenwich Village with dreams of acceptance, and he had found it while working in the theatre.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Rita, but there's bit a slight…costume change." Billy was one of three people in New York who knew her real name. The other two being that taxi driver from two days ago and Pete, of course. He was the first person in New York to have been friendly and she was eternally grateful to him. She raised an eyebrow. "I thought we'd finally nailed the costumes down. Is there something wrong with one?" Billy shook his head and she noticed he was holding something behind his back. She tried to catch of glimpse of it, but Billy shuffled. "No, no, no! Your designs are perfect! It's just that…well, Mr. Mustard would like a bit of a change."

Rita groaned and slid in her chair. "Oh, Christ! Not again! Seriously, the banquet dress was so much better before cleavage!" She flipped her hair out of her eyes. "I feel like a hooker not a queen! What does he want to change now?" She said angrily and Billy shyly held up what he had been hiding behind his back.

"What the hell is that?" Rita blinked as she looked at all the strings and buttons that hung from apparently was a piece of clothing. "It looks like some sore of a torture device." Billy smiled awkwardly and handed it to her. "It's a corset, actually. He wants you to wear it for the dream scene. It gives you," He blushed profusely. "Well, it gives you a bit of a _lift_, if you get my meaning." Rita groaned and rolled her eyes. "Really now? Is that _really_ necessary?" Billy looked apologetic. "He's the producer and the producer gets what the producer wants." She sighed and held it up in front of her, looking unconvinced. "Sorry, Rita. Oh, and we need to get Roger in here to get on the Duncan makeup. Do you think you could go into the dressing room?" "No prob." Rita awkwardly carried all of the makeup supplies in her arms and balanced the corset underneath.

She walked out and knocked two doors down. "It's Eleanor! Can I come in?" The door opened before she finished and Rita gratefully set down everything in her arms on a table. The women's dressing room was very small and only had one bathroom to be shared with the 5 women in the show. "Eleanor! We were just about to come find you!" One of the women applying makeup in the long mirror turned around. Martha was quite small and shy with mousy brown hair and thin eyebrows. She was one of the three witches and then doubled as an extra during the banquet scene. Despite Martha being a few years older than her, Rita got the distinct impression that Martha looked up to her.

Rita ran a hand through her hair and as she leaned back against the table noticed a large bouquet of roses set down. She shot them a look and glanced at the card. She groaned. "Oh Lord, did he send me _more_?" Martha smiled. "Mhm! You know he always sends you flowers, Eleanor! I think he fancies you!" She whispered the last part conspiratorially and Rita replied sarcastically. "Really? You think?" Martha's face fell and Rita instantly felt bad. "You should take him up on his offers some time, Rita. He's worth quite a lot of money. You've been given an opportunity most women would die for."

Rita took Martha aside and they applied their makeup out of earshot of the other women. "Martha? Is everything alright?" She asked quietly and Martha bit her lip and looked down. Rita gently turned Martha's face towards her own and asked gently. "What's wrong, love?" Tears welled up her eyes and coursed down her face. "I don't know. I've having trouble making ends meet, and," She paused. "I suppose it's just that I'm a bit jealous of you." Rita laughed. "Me? Whatever for?" Martha smiled through her tears and laughed a little as well. "You're so _good_, Eleanor! And besides, you've got a perfect boyfriend and Mr. Mustard would do _anything_ for you. Well, I just wish right now that someone would…want me like they do you."

Rita's face hardened. "Martha, Pete may be a lot of things but he is _not_ perfect. Do not envy me on that matter." Rita's tone was so deadly serious that Martha was alarmed, but Rita's face softened after a moment. "And besides, Mr. Mustard is a dirty old man who wants nothing more than to get into my pants. He's a creeper, Martha. _Can we get a bit more cleavage on the queen?_" She did such a good impression of the producer that Martha laughed. "Do you _really_ want that?" Rita grinned and Martha shook her head. Rita wrapped an arm around her. "One day, Martha, you're going to become so utterly famous that you'll look back with disgust on this low-rate production. You'll be draped in pearls and every man in New York will go simply crazy at the mere mention of your name." She gushed and Martha blushed profusely. "Oh, stop it, Eleanor!"

Rita grinned and sang, "_Martha, my dear, though I spend my days in conversation please remember me! Martha, my love, don't forget me! Martha, my dear!" _Martha smiled shyly. "I'm never going to be famous, so don't worry that I won't remember you." Rita looked offended. "_Hold your head up, you silly girl!" _Rita grabbed a booklet and pointed to Martha's name in the cast list. _"Look what you've done!" _She draped her arm across Martha's shoulders once more and led her out of the room. Martha smiled a little, but Rita saw the tears in her eyes. She laughed, "_When you find yourself in the thick of it, help yourself to a bit of what is all around you! You silly girl!" _Martha giggled a little and Rita led her over to the curtain on the wings of the theatre and opened it just a tad so Martha could see the growing audience being ushered in. "_Take a good look around you! Take a good look around to see that you and me were meant to be for each other!_" Rita waved an arm at the crowd and Martha hugged her.

They walked back to the dressing room and Rita sang. "_Martha, my dear, you have always been my inspiration!_" Martha snorted. "_Be good to me! Martha, my love, don't forget me! Martha, my dear!_" They both laughed and she whispered as they entered the dressing room once more. "Thanks, Eleanor." "No problem, Martha."

"Eleanor! There's something with your name on it on the table!" Bertha, one of the other witches called to her. "Thanks! I've seen the flowers already!" Bertha turned around from applying the prosthetics that turned her into a hideous old woman. "No, no. Something different. The cleaning boy said it was for you and left it here while you and Martha were out." Rita was confused. What else could be there? She dug around through the clutter on the table and found a small envelope that read _Ms. Eleanor Rigby_.

She ripped opened the top and peered in. Rita pulled out a piece of paper on which someone had written, _Break a Leg_. "What the hell?" She murmured as she looked at a small piece of paper that had fallen out of the note. It was part of a ticket that read _B16. _She turned both the ticket and the note over to try and find some clue as who exactly sent it to her. Seeing nothing, she left the dressing room and walked over to Emma, one of the ushers who happened to be backstage. Emma turned to her and looked surprised. "Why hello, Eleanor? What can I do for you?" Rita held out the ticket and the usher took it. "Sorry to bother you, Emma! I know it sounds ridiculous, but do you know that seat?"

Much to Rita's surprise, she nodded. "Mhm, last seat in the B row of the Orchestra. It's got a bloodstain underneath the chair so it sticks out in my mind." Rita grimaced and Emma quickly explained. "It came with the theatre. The cleaning boy noticed it." "Lovely." The usher handed back the ticket. "Why do you ask?" "Do you think you could do me a really quick favor?" Emma nodded and Rita continued. "Could you just walk past that seat and tell me who's sitting there? But don't let them realize you're looking." She instantly realized how ridiculous that sounded but the usher quickly ducked out the door into the auditorium.

A few minutes later, she returned and said, "Just some guy." Rita was even more confused. "What exactly did said man look like?" "Oh, I didn't look that closely." Rita shot her a funny look. "Well, er, do you think you could? I'll be in my dressing room. I've got to get ready." "No problem!" Rita headed back to the dressing room and as she finished putting on her makeup, searched her mind as to who exactly could be sitting there? _Certainly _not Pete. She snorted and put on her wig, making sure there were no stray hairs of her own poking out.

"Eleanor!" Emma burst into the dressing room and for the second time that evening Rita whirled around. Except that this time, there were other people in the room, which mean everyone else whirled around as well. Rita sighed, now _everyone _would be interested in hearing what Emma had to say. "What did he look like?" She asked anxiously and Emma grinned. "If I was younger, I'd be _all_ over that, let me tell you." Rita blushed; Emma was going on her early seventies. Lord knows what exactly that meant. "Go on!" By now, all the others had gathered around. "What's going on?" Martha asked and Emma replied before Rita could stop her. "Some mysterious man is watching Eleanor tonight!" All the women gasped and Rita quickly explained. "No, no, no! It's just that someone sent me an envelope with saying good luck and a ticket stub. So naturally I wanted to know who it was. There was no signature." "How romantic!" One of the older women who played Macduff's wife said giddily. All the women began talking all at once and Rita shouted. "Hey! Can I just please figure out who this is?!" The room was instantly silent. "Thank you!" She sighed and turned back to Emma. "Continue."

Emma grinned. "Well, he's got rather long dirty, blond hair, but I suppose that's the style these days. Looks a tad older than you. Great jaw and cheekbones, rather piercing gaze. Gorgeous in that rebellious, grungy sort of way. Is he your boyfriend, Eleanor?" _Max_, Rita thought but did not reply. Seeing her pause, all the women gasped once more and began talking over one another. Rita was lost in thought and the third witch spoke up. "No, Emma. I've met her boyfriend before and he looks _nothing _like that." The woman smirked and crossed her arms. "Either he's changed completely and rapidly, or Eleanor's got one on the side."

Rita shook her head back into reality and snarled. "No, _actually_, Myrtle. He's just a friend." She then said coldly, "Have you heard of them before? Perhaps you've maybe had one throughout the years?" Myrtle had always hated her and gone out of her way to make life as miserable for Rita as possible. She had asked Billy about it and he had said that Myrtle had been dead set on the role of Lady Macbeth. Naturally, she was infuriated when Rita "stole" the role and held it against her.

The veins in Myrtle's neck popped and she opened her mouth in reply, but was unable to think of anything. They met each other's gaze and Myrtle looked away after a few seconds and retreated back to the mirror. "Sorry to ruin the excitement everyone, but the mystery's over! And," Rita glanced at the clock, "We're on in 20 minutes!" Everyone instantly scattered to whatever they had been doing before. Rita walked over to a mirror and tried to concentrate on finishing her makeup, but was unable to. Why was that taxi driver back? Was it for _her? _Rita blushed profoundly and convinced herself she was being childish. He knew she had a boyfriend, so it couldn't be anything like that. Did he just really like Macbeth? Yes, that's what it was. Max whateverhisnamewas had simply come back to see the show again and had been kind enough to wish her good luck.

Still, Rita lowered the eyeliner from her lid and tried to recall his face. Had he really been _that_ handsome? She remembered him as being attractive, but something more than that? His eyes had been lovely, for sure. Emma was right when she had said they had been piercing. Little gems of speckled green and amber, Rita's inner poet reminded her. And he had had that sneaky little grin when he leaned back, just the right corner of his mouth that moved ever so slightly. And the way he had held her and she had been able to feel his the ridge of his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Stop it!" She whispered fiercely to herself as she broke out of her daydream. Rita shook her head and continuing applying eyeliner. "You know nothing about this man!" She said under her breath, "For all you know, he could be a serial killer who takes out his victims with a….silver hammer or something! Stop being ridiculous! You just met him and you'll never see him again!" Rita sighed and blinked as she set down the eyeliner in her personal makeup bin. "Get a grip!"

"Call time!" Billy shouted and all the other women hurried out of the room to backstage to prepare themselves for curtain call. In a few seconds, the previously bustling room felt empty as everyone but Rita left. She did not need to be onstage for about twenty minutes and always this time to mentally prepare herself. She changed into her first costume, a dark green dress that she was especially proud of and waited.

The time passed quickly and the next thing she knew, Martha rushed in and whispered. "You're up, Eleanor!" Rita smoothed out her dress and wig as she silently walked out of the dressing room. She stood in the dark corners of the wings of the theatre and took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her ears. She blocked out everything, even max, from her mind and felt as though she could simply melt into the darkness. Her pulse slowly and she felt almost dreamy as focused solely on herself. All traces of quiet, cute, pathetic little Rita were gone. She _was _Lady Macbeth. She then heard her cue line and stepped out onto the stage.

- - - - -

"Oh my God, was I alright?" Rita shut the door behind her and whispered to Martha. Rita untied the front of her dress as quickly as she could, having only a few minutes to change before the dream scene, the most dramatic scene of the whole show. Luckily, Martha was there to help with the costume change. "Come here!" Martha whispered and Rita quietly ran across the floor and turned around. As Martha undid the strings on the back of the dress, she laughed. "Good Lord, Eleanor! You're shaking!" Rita nodded quickly as the dress slipped off of her and pooled around her ankles. She shivered as she stood in nothing more than a strapless bra and panties. Martha brushed the wig off of Rita's shoulders and smiled. "I thought I was the one who had all the problems and here you are having a seizure! Eleanor, you were _fantastic _tonight! When you were doing that seduction scene, I was able to catch a glimpse through the curtains and I'm convinced every man in the audience tonight will dream of you."

Rita blushed and held out the corset to Martha. "Sorry, but there's bit a change. Mr. Mustard wants this on now, too. Apparently it gives me more cleavage. Classy, I know." She snorted and Martha wrapped it around her torso, then pulled the strings. Rita gasped and cursed loudly. Martha giggled and shushed her and began to tie all the strings. This went on for a few minutes, then Rita felt her stop and she looked over her shoulder. "Is there something wrong?" Martha looked up at her with concern in her eyes. "Eleanor, are you aware you've got a nasty looking bruise on your back?" Rita laughed, "Oh, well, that's because I, well, I fell backstage yesterday." Martha was unconvinced. "You fell on your _back_?"

"Well, I tripped. You know how clumsy I am!" Rita smiled strangely over her shoulder. Martha looked at her intensely. "Eleanor, this almost looks like a fist. Did someone _punch _you?" Suddenly, Rita recoiled and said angrily. "No! I tripped, all right! For Christ' sake, I didn't expect an inquisition!" Martha stepped back, surprised at Rita's uncharacteristic aggression and Rita looked away. She silently finished adjusting the corset and slipped on her nightgown. Rita slipped out of the room and felt tears spring to her eyes. She had tried to hide the pain of the bruise as best she could; when Martha had tugged the strings she had wanted to scream. Still, she hadn't been thinking and had been careless enough to let Martha of all people see the mark from two nights ago. A mistake she would not, could not make again.


End file.
